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and I was standing in the garden. The whole back of the house was gone.  However, I did have a waterfall in the bathroom.
     
    I run to the phones to dial 911. The phones are dead. I try my cell but I know if I call 911 on my cell I'll get highway patrol, so I dial the Bel Air fire house on Sunset. "Bel Air Fire." "You have got to come to my house. I just had a mudslide the whole back of my house is gone.!!!!!" Long pause... "How did you get this number?" I then have to beg them to come to my house.  When they arrive all cool and collected I am in full panic mode,  "Can you guys do something to divert the water?"(them) "No." (me) "NO?" (them) "It's dangerous back there." (me with attitude)
    " Don't you guys run into burning buildings?" (them) "Yes, but not mud." (Me with huge fricken' 'tude), "Should I set the house on fire? Would that help?" About this time the guy with the big white hat comes up to me. "Sir, when you have an emergency you should really dial 911." (Me) "My phones were dead." "But sir, you should dial 911."  "But I couldn't reach you on my cell so I dialed you directly" "Sir, that's why we have 911."  And I hit the effing roof. "I HAVE A EFFING RIVER FLOWING THROUGH MY HOUSE. THERE IS MUD UP TO MY ASS. YOU GUYS WON'T HELP AND NOW I GET A LECTURE ON HOW TO DIAL 9-1-1.  GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!!!"  And I throw the fire department out! Literally ... I threw them out of the house.
     
    My neighbors began collecting at the front door... they start a bucket brigade.  I call my best friend, my brother, plastic surgeon Michael Churukian.  It's his day off; he's here in 20 minutes and gives me Botox.  He runs to the back yard and jumps waist high into the mud... so I have a plastic surgeon, a guitar designer, two attorneys, a jeweler and a medical staffer digging out the back of my house, while the fire department went to Starbucks for a Latte. OH!  They did shut the gas, the electricity and phones before they yellow tagged my house. It shouldn't be a total loss for them. I'm homeless their day is complete... this is my greatest fear... no home and two dogs. I can see myself pushing a shopping cart through Beverly Hills.  I spend the night on a friend's sofa and begin six months of pure hell dealing with the city pencil pushers.... or as I call them Morons Anonymous.  Rash on my hands????  I'm lucky I didn't get shingles on my prostate.
     
    The house is all back together thanks to State Farm and Guatemala. However, when it rains like it is tonight, it all comes back and I make ca-ca in my pants. Oh God, you're so strict!
     
    MARCH 1, 2006  - I MADE IT THROUGH THE NIGHT
     
    I have made it through the night. The mountain held, the stomach held, the bowels held. The accountant comes at 10 to do the taxes. That's right I have an accountant that makes house calls; ya wanna make something out of it? Taxes this year should be fun since half my paperwork is in a landfill in Pomona.  I smell an audit. My only problem this a.m. is winter skin and constipation. The constipation is one of the gifts of I. B. S.  When I finally go I think I'll pass some of my Bar Mitzvah cake.   The dry skin comes from my father. HE gave me this skin, which looks like I've been herding sheep in Montana.  I remember as a child him bringing home five pounds of sheep fat to boil. Why? Lanolin.  He was starting a lanolin farm.  Have you ever-smelled boiling lamb fat? Have you ever been to a murder scene where the bodies have been allowed to rot in the sun? That's perfume in comparison.  I can still hear my mother trying to reason with him, " You moron. Do you think THAT will help? I'll tell you what will help... lie down in the street maybe a truck will run over you."  She was so supportive.  They divorced about 45 years ago and he died about 10 years ago.  About six months ago I was with her and friends. She was ranting about my father and left the room. My friend turned to me, "I thought your father had passed